


The Cure For Rainy Days

by Zaxal



Category: Psych
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 07:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaxal/pseuds/Zaxal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlton's in a bad mood, and Shawn's determined to make it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cure For Rainy Days

He really, _really_ shouldn't laugh. He knows this. He's perilously aware of what will happen if he laughs, but he still has a giggle bubbling behind his lips, threatening to burst out of him within earshot of his favorite detective without his own TV show.

Lassie should have one. It would be one of those almost-depressing shows where the protagonist has almost nothing go their way and you consider turning it off for about half of the run time but then something super special and nice happens to them and you see a moment of genuine happiness and it makes you feel better than all the reruns of _Friends_ you can marathon in a single night.

Except, right now, Carlton isn't smiling. He is, in fact, scowling quite furiously, absolutely drenched from where a car just sped through a puddle and splashed him thoroughly. His suit is soaking wet, his hair plastered to his forehead, and if he had laser vision, half of Santa Barbara would have just been leveled by his glare.

Shawn is trying so very hard not to laugh. You're not supposed to laugh at your boyfriend's streak of bad luck, no matter how ridiculous it's getting. That's a one-way ticket to sleeping alone on the couch or – worse – being tossed out in the rain.

He grabs an umbrella from the nearby rack where Carlton had accidentally left them this morning in spite knowing what the weather was going to be like. He trots out in the rain where his Lassie is standing, getting more soaked by the minute, lost in some thought or another and probably feeling sorry for himself.

None of that's allowed when Shawn's around. Unless Shawn maybe accidentally causes it from time to time. It's an honest mistake! Lassie should know the showboating isn't meant to be harmful and okay maybe he takes it a little step too far, but on the whole, Carlton is supposed to be smiling when he sees Shawn. Even more so when Shawn's trying to be nice and helpful.

Today, all he gets is a sour look and a heavy-hearted sigh. Oh dear. That simply will not do.

"C'mon, Lassie. You're going to get all sorts of nasty sick standing around in the rain like that."

His favorite detective (without his own TV show) pouts at him as if to say that he knows he won't. "I liked this tie," he finally says as if it's the sum of his problems right at the moment.

"We can salvage it."

"Liar."

"Grump," Shawn counters, still smiling. He holds out the umbrella to Carlton and lets go, knowing that Lassie won't let it drop. He pulls it up reluctantly, and Shawn, again, fights off the urge to giggle. He'd chosen the umbrella brightly patterned with frogs on accident, and, dare he say, Carlton looks adorable with it and with his little pouty frown.

Like he missed the school bus. On the first day of school when his Mom dressed him up all special and told him not to get too dirty. Shawn bites down another laugh and sidles closer under the umbrella. He's stayed under it, is still relatively dry, further cementing the fact that he shouldn't laugh at Lassie right now.

"Come on," he grabs Carlton's free hand and tugs him along towards the house. Carlton's shoes squish with each step – squelch and pat and he's doing his best to keep a regular and definitely not amused smile on his face as he ushers Carlton into the house. He plucks the umbrella out of Carlton's hands, sets it on the welcome mat to dry while Carlton peels off his shoes and socks, still frowning away. "Rough day?"

"People forget how to drive the moment it starts drizzling," Carlton growls, and Shawn knows the tone well enough to know that it's going to be a long rant. "The few people who remember just fine are the scum driving getaway vehicles. Twice today – _twice_ – we lost thieves who hit in the worst of the storm. They weren't even coordinated attacks. We're just that useless at our jobs."

He's taking it personally. Which means he must have been one of the officers driving who failed to catch their perps. Shawn wants to gather poor, wet Lassie in his arms and croon and coo because everyone has bad days (Lassie has a lot of them) and that it'll all be better in the morning (because he'll come to the station and figure out how to make it better).

Instead, he stands back, watching as Carlton slips out of his suit jacket and dress shirt, hanging them up on the doorknob, dripping pathetically. Shawn takes just a small moment to appreciate the way the wet undershirt clings to his boyfriend's hot body before scampering off. He returns with a towel, a t-shirt, and a pair of sweatpants, handing them over with a cheery, "Here you go."

Carlton watches him suspiciously. Shawn's smile widens. All of Carlton's Shawn-senses have to be telling him that he's up to something when he actually (for now) isn't. He even takes Carlton's wet clothes and spends minimal time ogling, taking them instead to the laundry hamper to be dealt with later.

Carlton Lassiter isn't a man made for lounging, but Shawn likes seeing him in something other than suits and polo shirts. Right now – barring the still-wet hair and the frown that refuses to go away – Lassie looks damn near cuddly. Like Shawn could drag him to the couch and snuggle down with him for the next forever while listening to the rain patter against the windows.

It sounds nice in theory, but Shawn knows better. They're both too twitchy for that. They get bored easily. And Carlton doesn't really look like he's up for Shawn's usual remedy for that either. Shawn almost makes it a principle to not have sex with Carlton when he's frowning so intensely. He thinks of it as positive reinforcement. Carlton manages a little smile or a laugh and Shawn practically throws himself at him.

And none of that has anything to do with the way something deep inside of him feels intensely warm and melty when Carlton smiles or laughs. Nope. Not at all. It's all extremely carefully calculated.

They move into the kitchen to scavenge for food. Shawn thinks he knows how this is going to end – soup and grilled cheese are a Lassie favorite on the rare rainy day – but he's not quite hungry. When Lassie's pilfering through the fridge, Shawn grabs a sneaky grope of his favorite ass in the whole wide world (with or without its own TV show – body parts he can play with immediately shoot to the top of any list over ones he can't).

Carlton turns to face him, kicking the door closed behind him. "Not in the mood."

"Why not?" Shawn blinks up at him innocently.

"Long day," Carlton's jaw is clenched, and he really is taking all of this way too seriously. "And I'm just not in the mood for your shenanigans tonight."

" _Our_ shenanigans," Shawn corrects helpfully. Carlton's eyes narrow, he scowls, and he decides not to get into an argument with his boyfriend tonight. Shawn deflates at the apparent agitation – he hasn't even done anything wrong! He's been nothing but helpful since Carlton got splashed by that car, and Carlton's taking his bad mood out on him.

Shawn can deal with that. Honestly, he can. Just... not in a mature, adult fashion. He sticks his tongue out at Carlton's back as he makes his way back to the living room. He plops down on the couch, sagging in defeat, and Shawn can't help but frown.

He may get some enjoyment out of making Lassie feel better, but he feels absolutely miserable when his Carlton does. He knows it's probably better to keep his distance, but Shawn and common sense are, at the very least, not talking to each other. He slinks over to the couch and sits gingerly down close-ish to him. And scoots closer. And scoots just a little more until Carlton's eyes snap to him.

Shawn immediately uses the most pathetic puppy eyes please-love-me look he has in his arsenal. Carlton hasn't ever fallen for any of the other variations of it, nor does he this one, but he does sigh, the tension seeping out of his body. "Shawn," he says, and it's all the apology Shawn needs.

Carlton's body is still cold from the rain, but Shawn cuddles up next to him enthusiastically anyway. He knows exactly how to warm Carlton up, but before he can do anything suspicious (exactly the way he wants to), Carlton's arms are around him, pulling him down onto the worn fabric of the old couch.

It's a very tight fit. Shawn's practically plastered to Carlton, but he's more than good with that. He nestles his head on Carlton's outstretched arm, nuzzling lightly at his neck as he puts his own arm around Carlton's waist. Their legs tangle naturally like they've done this hundreds of times before. The fact that they have doesn't stop Shawn's stomach from fluttering at how well they fit together, how right it all feels.

"Most thieves are stupid," Shawn says gently after a small silence. "You'll find them."

"I know," Carlton sighs. "I shouldn't have lost them in the first place."

"If the roads hadn't been wet, you would have had them booked and processed." Maybe not, but Shawn wants to make him happy. And, in his humble opinion, little white lies are a small price to pay to make Lassie feel better. "You're a speed demon, Lass. The whole city knows it." He feels Carlton's chest puff up slightly, and Shawn can't help his grin. He smothers it against Carlton's neck, hums happily.

He asks with a chuckle after a moment of indulgence, "The whole city?"

"The whole city," Shawn confirms. "They know that you're the best police detective, that you've got the skills to pay the bills, and that you've got the hottest boyfriend this side of the Mississippi."

"Uh-huh," Carlton's free hand traces down Shawn's side. Shawn shivers – it almost tickles, and he doesn't like being tickled much. Carlton knows his body inside and out the same as Shawn does his. So when Carlton tenses, Shawn knows something's about to happen.

Lassie's never instigated a tickle war before, but Shawn trusts Lassie about as much as he trusts Gus when it comes to his tickle spots, and he's learned after very, very unpleasant experiences that he shouldn't trust Gus when tickling is on the line. He wriggles off the couch, lands with a quiet _whump_ and skitters out of arm's reach. Carlton watches him, an amused tilt to his lips.

Not quite smiling, but he's getting there.

"Problems, Spencer?" There's a devious glint in his eye, and Shawn doesn't trust that very much either.

He leans against the coffee table and crosses his arms, pouting disapprovingly. Carlton's lips twitch. Almost a smile. "No tickling."

"I wasn't going to."

Shawn rolls his eyes, "Dude. You can't lie to me."

"Uh, _dude_ ," Lassie chuckles. "I wasn't. Not on purpose, anyway." He leans up on his arm and watches Shawn carefully, considering, "Although..."

"Nuh-uh," Shawn knows he wouldn't. Thinks he wouldn't. Is pretty almost sure that he wouldn't use his intimate knowledge of Shawn's body for the powers of evil. He trusts Lassie not to, but he scoots back out of reach again as Carlton sits up, watching him with that look in his eyes.

Shawn doesn't like being on the defensive, which is a shame because Lassie looks absolutely delectable when he's all hunter-on-the-prowl. Shawn likes that look being aimed at him, but it also makes him want to flee and get out of grasp.

For a moment, they sit, intent on each other, watching the subtle movements along familiar bodies and reading into every tiny one.

The thing is, Shawn's only willing to run if he knows Carlton will chase.

"Shawn," Lassie's voice is low, rumbly, not as assuring as he's pretending to be. "Come here."

"Why?" Shawn eyes him suspiciously.

Carlton smiles – it's not a real one. Shawn has an extensive catalog of Carlton's smiles and that one there is the 'trust me so I can get close enough to tie you down and have my awesome-naughty way with you'. They're all quite specific; Lassie has a very expressive face. "I like holding you." Shawn gives into the temptation to scoot a little closer. Just a smidge. "Paranoid," he chuckles.

"You're one to talk," Shawn mumbles, and Lassie's smile widens. Too many teeth, trying too hard. His Carlton is adorable when he thinks he's being tricky. He's too honest to lie well. Shawn might tell him that one day.

Probably not, actually. It's too much fun to play with him.

"Shawn," Carlton's voice is utter patience, and that's when Shawn knows he's made up his mind. Shawn shifts just enough to pull his feet behind him.

They're off in an instant. He has the disadvantage, being on the floor, but Carlton goes for the obvious – up. Shawn shoots beneath his legs and scrambles to his feet. He grins as Carlton swears, and then he tears off across the living room. He hops over the chair standing between him and the kitchen, disregarding furniture as he often does when they get rowdy.

Carlton is far too respectful of their furniture, and Shawn has the best idea he's had in a while. With a surge of adrenaline, he vaults back over the chair, over the coffee table. He stumbles slightly as he gets his hand on the doorknob and hears Carlton swearing again as he manages to open the door.

He's out on the lawn, in the pouring rain. Mud and grass squish between his toes as the rain flattens his hair, makes his jeans and shirt cling to him. He turns around to find Lassie standing at the threshold, watching him for a moment, chest rising and falling with deep breaths. Considering.

Shawn laughs every laugh he's been holding back since he saw Carlton get splashed. It's victory because there's no way Carlton's going to willingly come back out into the rain without an umbrella, and it would slow him down too much to win. He grins from ear to ear, "Poor Lassie doesn't like getting wet."

He sees the on-the-prowl look again and his laughter dies off into a squeak and Lassie races out into the rain with him. Shawn immediately scampers away, splashing through puddles heedlessly, running around their small yard and carefully keeping Carlton going in circles, both of them laughing as they run.

Shawn somehow manages to find the one piece of ground that's missing grass, and he slides through the mud, arms thrust out away from his body, wobbling to help him keep balance. By the time he's back to rights, Carlton is there, hands pulling him up, tugging Shawn close.

"You okay?" Carlton asks gently, and the smile on his face is genuine when Shawn nods with a small 'yeah'. Shawn can't help himself. He loops his arms around Lassie's neck and pulls him down for a warm kiss as the rain keeps pouring down on top of them.

"We should go inside," Carlton says before kissing Shawn again.

"And take a nice warm shower?" Shawn says innocently. Carlton pulls Shawn close until their bodies are flush against each other.

Shawn can't see his smile, but he knows from the way Carlton's body is touching his that his bad day has been mostly relieved. And even though he lost the race, he feels like that's a more important victory. "Then maybe some soup and grilled cheese?"

"You read my mind," Carlton says, and even though Shawn sees the open opportunity for teasing, he decides not to. He kisses Carlton again before taking his hand and leading them inside. He's not psychic, but he doesn't have to be. He knows that smile on Carlton's face – it's one of his favorites: the old reliable 'Shawn makes me happy, and I might just love him'.

That doesn't fix all of their problems and frustrations, of course. But laughter and smiles make the rest of it easier, and neither of them are thinking about anything but each other as they peel off wet clothing on their way to a shared shower.


End file.
